Soft, Small Hand
When it’s my time to go – when my kids are all in their 80’s, maybe I’ll head to Florida, strap on a parasailing vest, and be whisked off to the great unknown, knowing I have lived a life of love, happiness and kindness.
The Bumbershoot
Every day is a gift, and I love being here, with my sunshiny day, black bumbershoot.
Primrose
As I look at these primroses, I hope that mom and dad are sitting up there on some cloud, having their gin and tonics and tequila with lime, and looking down and smiling upon us with approval. Even though I’m not the homemaker my mom was, I definitely inherited her capacity to love and to show love, and for that I’m grateful.
Fog by Candlelight
No sirens, no honking or swearing, no revving cars, no yelling tourists, no anything, except the quiet murmur of the Great British Baking Show in the background. That, and the sounds of the waves crashing on the rocks outside. That’s a sound I’ll never tire of. I have entered heaven, I think.
Barnegat Lighthouse
Living here in the middle of everything, as opposed to the middle of nothing, I almost feel a duty to explore.
Time
It can look like a perfectly lovely day here in my little harbor in NJ, clear skies, not a care in the world. And then – I hit the Turnpike, or Lincoln Tunnel, or GW Bridge, and life comes to a complete standstill. Sometimes though, you can slip through these like a kayak on a raging river, and you arrive early – breathless, but early.
Borough Hall
I think it’s rude when this happens – entire buildings are picked up and dropped in other parts of the city just at the precise time I’m looking for them. Unfortunately, it happens quite often here. I pretty sure this is why there are so many traffic jams in the city.
A Loveliness of Ladybugs
And on the evening would go, dad sipping his tequila and lime, mom with her G&T, and me with white wine, listening to the hum of the lawnmowers, the barking of an occasional neighborhood dog, and the sound of familial contentment. I smile at those memories.
Gonk!
I looked out over the harbor and saw the lone goose flying overhead, honking loudly, and searching for its mate. After a minute or so, I heard a big splash and saw Mr. and Ms. Goose reunited and quibbling in the water below. I couldn't tell if they were squabbling or rejoicing, but I like to think they were happy to see each other.
Glub, Glub
What delights me the most is that they have a hidden side to them that I believe reveals their true natures. When you see the bottom of the stingray, a big, goofy, smiley face is revealed. I know this is blatant anthropomorphism, but it is impossible not to smile when you see them.
Gust or Gale?
They dive-bomb down to the posts in the harbor and push each other off their perches, claiming them for their own as they were the brave ones. Then the displaced bird starts the soaring, careening, freedom dance all over again.
A Plu-Perfect Cabbage
I’d come wandering in and when I’d ask what he was doing he’d say, “Oh, I’m sitting here like an absolutely plu-perfect cabbage.” Or sometimes, when guests would stay too late, he’d comment, “I’m beginning to grow leaves…cabbage leaves.” Oh man – his vegetable references got better and better over the years.
Cozy Mystery
So far, I’ve debunked the desire to live in small-town USA, and a lighthouse. Now village in the Cotswolds will be next – house boats, pyramids, castles, palaces, yurts, treehouses and yachts still remain on the list – and a whole bunch more. Stay tuned.